The Angel and The Devil

Desire is an angel. Nessie is a devil. Neither of them fit where their supposed to. But when a chance encounter brings them together, they can't help but notice their similarities. Becoming best friends, they decide to switch titles- and lives. But the punishment if their discovered is as severe as it can get. Will they be able to keep their secret or will they be shunned by their families for the rest of their lives?

1. Just Another Manic Monday

Desire's Point of View-

I watch the ceiling fan go around and around and around. It's 5 am, and soon Mom will be in to wake me up. Like a perfect little angel (no pun intended) I'll get up without a word and get dressed. After all, one should not defy the words of ones superiors. It's written right there in The Angel Handbook: Beginner Level. Right now, I should be on the Intermediate level, but I'm a terrible reader and angel history doesn't interest me. So, I stay on the beginner level. Judge me if you want. But secretly, I envy the devils.

"Desire," Mom says with a slight knock at my door, "Time to get up."

"I don't want to," I put my pillow over my head. So much for being a perfect little angel.

Mom sighs and goes over to wake up my goody-two-shoes sister, Madison. Madison is the perfect little angel. Literally. And I'm her terrible, council watched sister. The trouble maker. Whatever.

"Desire, up, now," Mom snaps at my door. I throw my pillow in her general direction and it sets her off, "Desire! You're grounded!"

"I'm always grounded, Mom, find a new punishment. Yours is getting old," I say and Mom just looks at me and sighs.

Then under her breath, she mutters, "Why can't you be like Madison?"

"Because I'm not a bitc-"

"Desire! Your grounded for 3 weeks! Get up and get dressed, now!" My mom yells at me then walks down the stairs. On Madison's way down, she looks at me. I'm still sitting on my bed and she's fully dressed. She shakes her head and walks away.

I sigh and slide myself off my bed. Then I go towards my closet full of white dresses. Why are angels so stereotypical? I pick a dress out. It's white and ruffled to my knees and has a bow at the waist. I put a white headband in my dark hair. I look in the mirror and sigh once more.

Madison is so much prettier than me to. She has dirty blonde hair and peircing, ice blue eyes. I have dark brown hair with dark "chocolate" brown eyes. She's to the point where her weight is perfect and I'm a bony little twig. Madison is the better angel.

I sigh, again, and grab my white, over the shoulder bag. I don't want to go to school, but I can't ditch. I'll just have to suck it up and deal with it. With a slight look at the clock I go downstairs to begin my day of torture.